


slide into first base (it’s always been you)

by quisinart4



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, exploring new positions and exploring each other's souls, smut with a dash of feels and fluff, yes i'm still obsessing over these two in 2018 OKAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quisinart4/pseuds/quisinart4
Summary: A revealing position, and some revealing secrets. Mike and Ginny try something new, talk numbers, and cuddle on the couch.





	slide into first base (it’s always been you)

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse the corny baseball themed title. I really tried to go with something else but this kept coming back to me. This is maybe the dirtiest thing I've ever written ahhh, but I am just obsessed with these two and exploring their relationship of them exploring each other. In ALL sorts of ways, if you know what I mean. ;) I can't get them out of my head, SERIOUSLY, I churned this out in a day. 
> 
> Hovering between rating it an M or E, but rating E just to be safe since there is cursing as well. I just see Mike as loving his foul language. Comments would be much appreciated, thank you if you take the time! xoxo

"You should wear shorts all the time." 

Ginny pauses to look back over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowing at the comment. They're making their way up Mike's front yard after leaving a barbecue at Blip and Evelyn's. She was leading the way, and Mike was - oh, now she sees where his gaze is, Mike was enjoying the view.  
  
She laughs just as they reach his doorstep, waiting for him to get out his keys. She leans against the side of the door, popping out a hip dramatically and winking at him. "Oh, really?"  
  
"Yeah." His eyebrows waggle as he makes a show of stepping back and checking her out again. "Your ass looks amazing in shorts."  
  
She makes a sound of acceptance at the compliment, because, hey, she knows her strengths, it's true. She works out. She eyes his profile as he finally unlocks the door, cargo shorts and an old Padres t-shirt that looks so faded and worn that she wonders how comfortable it would be to sleep in. Maybe she'll steal it tonight and find out.  
  
"Wish I could say the same about you."  
  
He just laughs, holding the door open and allowing her inside first, always the gentleman.  
  
"Ha, ha, Baker's got jokes."  
  
She slips her sneakers off but before she can make her way to the couch, he's grabbed the belt loop of her jean shorts and tugs her back towards him, right into him.  
  
_Right into him._ _  
_  
She can't help the hitch in her breath when they make contact. When that ass of hers he's talking about collides with his front. It's only been ten seconds since they were standing on the front stoop but she thinks she feels him half-hard, how the _hell_ is that even possible? She has no clue.  
  
She holds her breath and waits for him to make a move.  
  
He does.  
  
His hands wrap around the waistband of her shorts, sliding down to where she's encased in snug denim, running over the seams of the back pockets.  
  
"Perfect pear-shaped ass," he murmurs, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck, nuzzling into the skin.  
  
Even after all these weeks, his beard still takes some getting used to so she squirms at the friction and she laughs, whether at the comment or his touch or just out of pure, radiant happiness, she's not sure. But yes, she _giggles_ like some lovesick fangirl-slash-girlfriend and maybe, well, maybe that's exactly what she is.  
  
"You remember that?" she asks. She looks up at him and his eyes are twinkling so brightly that she can't resist leaning further back, resting her head on his shoulder to enjoy her upside down view.

"Baker, how could I ever forget?"  
  
She just hums at the memory. "You said Leo was prettier."  
  
"Young Leo, babe, Old Leo is washed out. You're a lot prettier than him."  
  
She snorts, slapping at his hands where they're wrapped around her waist again. "Oh, thanks a lot."  
  
"Well, I'm not gonna lie to you, Baker." He tugs at her earlobe with his teeth, not bothering to hide a chuckle at the enjoyment he gets from teasing her. "What kind of man would I be?"  
  
"Um, one who wants to get laid."  
  
"Oh, I think that's gonna happen either way.” He smirks into her neckline, enjoying the view down her tank top.  
  
Ginny holds her breath as his hands brush at the skin of stomach right above her shorts. Back and forth, back and forth. His fingertips are still rough with callouses, it's only been a month or so since he's retired, since they won the Series, and she selfishly hopes the catcher callouses will never go away. Feeling them on her... feeling them _in_ her, she almost moans right there thinking of it and has to bite her lower lip to keep quiet.  
  
His hands unsnap the button at the top of her shorts, the clanging sound of metal echoing in the quiet of his house. And when he drags down the zipper... she can feel her heart racing, her breathing fast and labored. He simply brushes at the waistband of her panties, barely slipping a finger inside the elastic, just over the hem.  
  
She can't help but whimper.  
  
"Turn around, Ginny."  
  
She does.  
  
Her arms go around his neck as if automatically, and she marvels at how easy it is to just slide them there, to touch him out of comfort and want and _need_ . Her forehead rests against his and she's happy to see his breathing is affected too, choppy breaths echoing with lust, so tangible she feels like she's inhaling it every time their breaths mingle.  
  
They stand like that for who knows how long, and she can't help but flash back to that night outside the bar, the way they'd held each other, had done nothing _but_ hold each other. How their mouths were open, their breaths mingling, noses grazing, she swears their fucking _eyelashes_ even brushed, but that sounds so damn stupid and so damn _romantic_ that maybe she just imagined it.  
  
This time, she licks her lips and looks right into his eyes, unashamedly nearly panting at the naked arousal she sees. It makes her heart race, makes her panties just a little more soaked.  
  
She can't look away.  
  
"Mike."  
  
"Yeah?" His voice is choppy and rough, as if he's getting over a cold or waking from a long nap. As if he's just as aroused as she is.  
  
It makes her thighs clench.  
  
"When is this gonna end?" she asks.  
  
This time, he lifts his head, eyes puzzled and mouth opening as a frown begins to form. His hands lift from around her waist as he moves to take a step back from her. She recognizes the confusion on his face... wait, did he think she meant when will _this_ end, _this_ between them?  
  
"No, no." She yanks him back, and pulls him closer than before, pressed against her front, her arms locked around his neck and mouth a mere inch from his own. She rubs her nails through the hair at the nape of his neck as if to apologize for scaring him. "I meant the whole wanting to rip each other's clothes off the second we're alone part."  
  
"I- oh."  
  
His heart is racing through the thin fabric of his shirt, she swears she can hear it pounding erratically, and she wonders if he panicked at what he thought she was talking about. It only makes her push closer to him, her breasts brushing against his broad chest muscles, as if promising him silently she's not letting him go, she's not letting _this_ end.  
  
And because they've never needed words to communicate, she swears he gets the message because his hands tighten on her ass, clenching and letting go, thumbs dipping into the waistband of her shorts and underwear, fingertips brushing against the hem of fabric.

"Oh, _that_ ," he says with a chuckle. "Well, what can I say, I'm a good lookin' guy. Might take another twenty, thirty years for your hormones to settle down where I'm concerned."

"Whatever, as if you're gonna live that long," she teases, but her insides brighten at the idea they'll be doing this another couple of decades down the road. This - the teasing and kissing and banter and holding and touching and... _all of it._ _  
_  
"Ouch. Damn, Baker." This time he winces at the comment, brushing his beard across her cheek in retaliation. "You know how to hit a guy where it hurts."  
  
She bites her lip and shakes her head, holding back laughter at his crestfallen face. "Aw, I'm sorry" She drops a quick kiss on his lips but has already moved back before he can register it and kiss back. Her hands reach for the button on his shorts, and this time, he's the one who goes absolutely still as she drags down his zipper, as her nimble hands slip inside his boxers and grab hold of him.  
  
If he was only half hard a minute ago, he's reached _hard as a rock_ level now.  
  
"Let me make it up to you," she murmurs seductively, dropping a trail of kisses along his jawline, nuzzling at his beard.  
  
But before she can drop to her knees, he steadies her by the waist, stepping out of his shorts as he drags her towards the living room. "No. I want you." His lips are on hers before she can protest, and it's all she can do to hold onto his strong arms, trying to get a grasp on her balance as he drags her along even as he's kissing her breathless. There's nothing polite about it; their tongues have become intimately familiar with each other over the last few weeks, and Ginny doesn't hesitate to grant him access to every corner of her mouth. She moans and clutches at his hair, her nails digging into his scalp and making him groan in approval. She knows he loves it when she does that, so of course she does it _all the time._  
  
"You never let me finish," she whines, then glares at him when he chuckles.  
  
"Yeah, well, you're always interrupting me, so we're even." She continues to glare at him even as he pulls her tank top over her head, his eyes hovering at her bra-clad breasts in appreciation. She shivers at his gaze, eyes so dark it takes her breath away. It's the off season and she doesn't have to wear a sports bra every day, except for when she's working out, and it seems Mike is really appreciating the change up in her wardrobe.  
  
His eyes move back to her face where she's still glaring. "I do let you sometimes," he reminds her. "But I don't need that when I can have you instead."  
  
"Yeah, but I wanna-"  
  
"Later," he growls, his lips on hers again, his hands moving aside her shorts and panties in one go. When she steps out of them, his hands clench around her waist, one hand dragging down her front, brushing through her wetness. She nearly whimpers at the sensation, then bites her lip in embarrassment, meeting his eyes. "God, you're so hot."  
  
She drags off his shirt in one quick motion, throwing it aside and sweeping her hands up and down his chest, his back, his shoulders, his abs. The muscles are more defined now that he's lost some weight. Not too much, but just enough to make it easier on his knees and to add some definition. He's more lean, more defined, and he makes her mouth water. And now, she's allowed to do something about it.  
  
She drops a trail of kisses across his chest, makes a move to go lower but he's reaching for her face, cradling it in his big hands and kissing her again. The feel of her wetness on his fingers is right against her cheek and she moans at how dirty it is, at how unashamedly _good_ he makes her feel at being bad.  
  
"Couch," she mutters, dragging him backwards towards the large sectional, a tangle of arms and legs. Her body already feels overheated, her chest heaving as she gulps deep breaths of air.  
  
"Over here, Baker, let me see that view."  
  
He pulls her to the arm of the couch instead, and she goes pliant in his arms as he turns her around, and that pear-shaped ass he was admiring is towards him again.  
  
"There it is," he murmurs huskily, rubbing his face along the back of her neck, brushing aside her hair to nuzzle at her throat. "Just like that, babe." His hands are all over her, her front, her back, between her legs and on her ass, running along the inside of her thighs; she pants as she tries to take in all the sensations.  
  
"Mike," she whimpers, her hands grappling to hold onto the sofa, "can't see you."  
  
"Thought you wanted to make me happy, huh, Baker? Trust me, I love what I'm seeing," he assures her, nipping at her shoulder, his hands reaching around to cup her breasts. He pulls down one bra cup, then another, fingers playing with her nipples so that she arches back against him in pleasure. It only puts her right against his cock, right where he wants her.  
  
"Yeah, just like that, babe. Right there." He lets out a shuddering breath, then grabs her right leg, lifting it up so her knee rests on the arm of the sofa, opening her up for the taking. His hand plays with her, back and forth all over her slit and she moans as she feels it all over her inner thighs.  
  
"God, Ginny, you're perfect."  
  
As he stands and aligns himself, brushing against her, she tenses all of a sudden, her back stiffening in a display of nerves, and he senses it immediately. How can he not when he's plastered right behind her.  
  
"Ginny?" he asks, peeking around her shoulder to look into her face. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, um, sorry.” She wiggles in place, not from anticipation like always, more a case of nerves and anxiety, embarrassment at just how vulnerable she is in this position. Like, he can completely _see her_ . She cringes at the thought. "Um, I just... I've never done it like this before..." The words are nearly muffled into the fabric of the sofa where she's resting her head, and she flushes in embarrassment as she makes the confession.  
  
He stills immediately, his hands freezing on her as he seems to hover in place. "Shit, Baker. Sorry, I'll um," his hands unwind from her waist and he reaches to gently grab hold of her shoulders, "turn around."  
  
"No, no," she says, turning quickly over her shoulder to look his way. She still can't meet his gaze so she quickly looks away, back in front of her, then realizes in shock that she can see their reflection in that obnoxiously large TV of his. It's too much, they're naked and entwined and they look so.. _._ it's too much, and she looks away to safer territory.  
  
"Um, I want to," she says as she feels his hand rub gently up and down her spine. "I do. With you. I just... I feel so… it’s so… " She squirms in embarrassment and drops her head down again, hiding her flaming face into a throw cushion.  
  
He laughs from behind her, seeming to step even closer so he's _right there,_ right there at her entrance and she swears if he even _breathes_ right now he'd be in her.  
  
But he stops and pushes back her hair, dropping kisses on her shoulder, nudging her bra strap aside to bite at bare skin.  
  
"Baker, you are the hottest thing I've ever seen, all spread out like this."  
  
She blushes, she can feel her _whole_ body turn red and only burrows her face further into the pillow. "Shut up."  
  
"Okay, I lied." She looks back over her shoulder and this time they do meet eyes and she can't look away. "It's the hottest thing I've seen _today_ . Yesterday, you in the pool, that was yesterday's hot thing."  
  
She rolls her eyes, releases a huff of laughter that allows some nerves to escape with it. She arches back, feeling more in control, enjoying the way his jaw clenches when she comes into contact with him again.  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for, Lawson? _Go_ ."  
  
He looks at her, eyes widening. "You sure?"  
  
She only pushes against him again, and oh yeah, she really loves that look on his face, how he turns to absolute stone as he fights for control, how his hands tighten just a fraction more on her hips. She thinks he's gonna leave a bruise and she doesn't mind the thought one bit.  
  
"It's gonna be good, Ginny," he promises, his eyes never leaving her. "And if you don't like it, just tell me and I'll-"  
  
She has always gotta be the one taking control, doesn't she? She huffs in amusement at his chivalry, because, _really_ , just look at her right now, it’s downright indecent, and lifts an arm to wrap around his neck and kiss him sloppily. He groans at the kiss, all tongue and spit, so frantic and hot and that's all it takes for him to lean in and... _oh,_ there he is.  
  
Her breath hitches as she adjusts and she moans, dropping her head back, feeling him nuzzle at her neck. "Oh my god, _Mike_ ."  
  
"I know, Gin, I know." He seems as frazzled as she is and she takes comfort in it, relieved that she's not the only one feeling this way. The sensations, the movement, the fullness... _oh god,_ she doubts she's even gonna last a minute.  
  
"I can't, I don't think I can-" She gasps for air, her hands tightening on the arm rest, her back aching in this position, so much emotion clawing through her that she’s overwhelmed.  
  
His hips stop and he freezes. "You want me to pull out?"  
  
"No!" she nearly shrieks, and oh wow, this is _so_ embarrassing. She buries her head in her arms, but pushes back, making it clear exactly what she wants. "No, keep going. Faster."  
  
Mike lets out a low laugh, and it's the hottest, dirtiest sound she's heard and oh no, she's barely gonna last another three thrusts if that laugh keeps echoing in her ear.  
  
"That's my girl."  
  
The next minutes are frantic, his hips moving desperately and her knuckles turning white where they rest on the couch, sweat dripping down their fronts and backs, groans and moans and whimpers as Ginny feels she's right on the brink of something so scary, she can't quite make herself let go. It's too powerful, too unknown, she can't turn her damn brain off, the anxiety creeps in and she feels a drizzle of panic.  
  
"Mike, I can't, it's too much," she hears herself sob, even though there are no tears.  
  
"Ginny, look up. Look," he orders. Her gaze focuses on them in the reflection of the television, and to her surprise he's looking there too, meeting her eyes straight on, not an ounce of shame or hesitation in his stare. His right hand brushes gently at her shoulder while the other is busy between her legs. "Look at you, look how amazing you look."  
  
She lets out a sound of embarrassment and quickly looks away, and she swears she's gonna evaporate, she feels so heated, her whole body on fire as their gazes had met in the reflection.  
  
But he doesn't let her escape that easily, his hand coming up to her chin and forcing her to look back at them. He's all over her, his front to her back, her bra hanging off one shoulder, her chest heaving, hair a mess, his arms so wide and muscular, his body so big behind her as he moves forward, then back, forward, back, oh god, he's moving inside her and her whole body is _shaking_ as he does...  
  
"Mike," she moans, and it sounds so dirty and filthy and aroused that if she hadn't seen the visual, if she hadn't seen her mouth open, she wouldn't have believed she could say his name that way.  
  
"Yeah, babe, we are hot as hell, even me with the beard."  
  
In the end, that's what does it, him making her laugh, because of course it does, of course he always knows what to say and where to touch and where to caress and how to make her moan her release so loud, she swears the neighbors must have heard her. The sound definitely echoes in the first floor of his house, but before she can feel embarrassed, his loud groan follows as he finds his release in just a few extra thrusts.  
  
"Fuck, _fuck_ , oh my god, Ginny, you're gonna kill me."  
  
He drops his head to rest on her shoulder, too exhausted to even kiss her, just resting his head there, nose rubbing back and forth in the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder, his chest heaving against her back. He rests his arms on either side of her, his biceps huge yet the muscles there quivering from his release.  
  
It makes her feel powerful despite the fact he envelops her small frame. She runs a fingertip along his forearm, sees his entire body twitch at the tiny movement, and she smiles secretly to herself at how she makes this big, strong man tremble.

Ginny laughs softly, one hand lifting to rub at his cheek. "It was your idea."  
  
He lifts his head immediately, searching her face for any signs of discomfort. He finds only bliss. He can't stop himself from grinning in male satisfaction, a smug smirk settling on his lips. But he asks anyway, "It was okay though? You liked it?"  
  
She rolls her eyes, huffing at his bravado, refusing to answer even as he chuckles in amusement. "Shut up and hand me your shirt. And can you please turn me around already?"  
  
Mike drops a kiss on her head, then another on her forehead as he moves back. "Yeah, let me do that, Gin, hold up."  
  
She manages to stand still while he cleans up, trying not to succumb to any further feelings of shame, or of _arousal_ as he wipes gently at her inner thighs with tissues and his hands tenderly slide his t-shirt over her head, brushing her hair down, smiling fondly the entire time.  
  
She takes a tentative step towards the couch, wincing at the ache between her legs, rolling back her shoulders to ease the tension in her back.  
  
"You okay?" he murmurs from just a few steps away, hovering over her as if he can't bear to step away.  
  
He's got his boxer briefs back on and she eyes him up and down, enjoys the view, then reaches out a hand for him to join her on the couch. "C'mere. Cuddle."  
  
Mike chuckles, "yes, ma'am," scooping her into his arms, easing back to rest against the side of the couch so he can stretch out his long legs. She lays plastered on his left side, nearly on top of him as he holds her firmly to make sure she doesn't fall.  
  
She burrows her face in his broad chest, nuzzling at his collarbone, arms wrapped around his waist.  
  
"Baker, say something," he orders, his hand drawing lazy circles on the outside of her thigh, clenching and un-clenching his hand over the strong muscles of her leg.  
  
"Um... I'm never gonna be able to watch TV here again," she admits, face flaming red as she says it.  
  
He laughs, his chest vibrating as he throws back his head in amusement and she enjoys the sensation, and the view. Her eyes dart away when he winks at her, but still feeling so exposed from earlier, she looks away quickly.

"We can get a new TV if you want but no way I'm getting rid of that one. I'm gonna frame it, add it to my Ginny Baker shrine."  
  
She slaps at his shoulder, rolling her eyes at his comment, refusing to meet his gaze. Her eyes stay resolutely at the skin of his shoulders as her fingers play over the muscles, as she takes in all the warm, golden skin. He's been joining her by the pool more and has got a slight tan to show for it, she realizes. She remembers all that time she spent rubbing sunscreen over his broad chest, up and down his abs, teasing him as he got harder and harder, until she finally just straddled him on the chaise. That had been a good afternoon.  
  
Yeah, she's loving it when he joins her by the pool.  
  
"Baker, you goin' shy on me?"  
  
His voice is filled with amusement and she instantly blushes, even as she shakes her head in defiance. But he just chuckles as she struggles to meet his gaze, and she just wraps her arms around his neck, hiding her face in the space there.  
  
"You were so hot, Ginny," he murmurs in her ear.  
  
Her entire body flushes at the memory, she swears she can feel her face turn red.  
  
"I haven't come that hard in ages," he's telling her, his hands brushing over her back. "Well, except for when I'm with you."  
  
"Mike," she whispers, flushing at the compliment, sneaking a peek at his face where he's looking down at her in such unbridled fondness and amusement; she has to look away again. He just chuckles, drops another kiss in her hair.  
  
"I... um, I..."  
  
"Spit it out, Gin,” he orders, his open palm still idly rubbing up and down her back, right at her spine where she holds her tension. Same as when she's on the field, same as when she's in bed. He knows all her spots; she can’t hide it from him.

"I've only slept with six other people," she blurts out. Her face scrunches in embarrassment even if he can't see it. His hands freeze on her back, his entire body stiffening to listen closely to what she has to say. "So, um, I haven't... you know, done some stuff."  
  
"Ginny, I- you-" He huffs out a breath of air, and with a groan, he adjusts their positions and pulls her further up his body. She's right on top of him, long limbs stretched over him, faces lined up so she has no choice but to look in his eyes. He runs a hand through her hair, almost fumbling at the gesture as if he's unsure of how to proceed. She realizes she's naked under his shirt and she's sitting right on him, and unconsciously squirms in place, spreading a patch of wetness from between her legs onto his waist. His eyes darken at that, his hand clenching in her hair as pulls her close for a kiss. It's so gentle that she nearly whimpers.  
  
"I only need you, Gin. I promise, you're perfect."  
  
She rolls her eyes, but bites at her lower lip to hide a smile. He sees it and nudges her nose with his own. "Look at me, Gin." When she does, he smirks at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Fucking perfect."  
  
Ginny drops a quick kiss on his lips, lingers for a second as his hands run through her hair, cradling her cheek.  
  
"Plus, I mean, if we're gonna talk numbers," he grimaces, pulling away and avoiding her eyes this time, "you're gonna make me feel ancient and-"  
  
"Slutty?"  
  
He rolls his eyes at her, but rubs a hand through his beard in a rare gesture of uncomfortableness. "Hey, I thought you weren't supposed to use that word in regards to a woman's sexual experience because of society's archaic double standards." When she raises an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs. "What? I listen to your feminist rants."  
  
Ginny smiles at him fondly, but shakes her head in amusement. "Yeah, a _woman's_ experience. I can still call _you_ a manwhore."  
  
Mike winces at that, even as his lips quirk up in a smile. His hands play with her hair, smoothing down the wayward strands. He's always playing with it, fascinated by it whether it's curly or straight, resting his chin right on top of her head as they fall asleep at night.  
  
"It was a phase, okay? I was... you know, just being a guy."  
  
"Yeah, a _gross_ guy. Reaping the benefits the groupies have to offer," Ginny drawls sarcastically. But there's humor laced in her teasing, more than comfortable with the topic after two years on the team and witnessing the groupie scene that her fellow teammates indulge in. Not her though, because of course, society's stupid archaic double standards. Not that that was her scene anyway. No, she’d always been a one man kind of woman.

"Must have had your pick of the litter after we won this year."  
  
Mike looks at her in surprise, shaking his head adamantly, hands tightening at her waist as if keeping her in place for what he's about to say. "What- no. Come on, Baker. You know," he drifts off, then clears his throat and begins again, "you know there's only been you. I only want you."  
  
Her heart stumbles and she swears she finishes falling in love with him, if she wasn’t there already. But she must have already been there, somewhere from the moment she met him on the field to now, she's already been in love because there's no way the words would have made her heart tremble so powerfully otherwise.  
  
She smiles at him softly, moving further up his chest so she can wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. It's long and slow and sweet, the tangle of tongues and meeting of lips, his big hands moving up and down her back and plastering her close to him.  
  
He breaks the kiss to smile down at her, brushing his nose against hers as he arches an eyebrow to ask, "What the hell was wrong with the guys in your hometown? They weren't lining up for you?"  
  
Ginny snorts at the thought, shaking her head. "Mike, I was a girl playing baseball. Not exactly a turn-on."  
  
He stares at her in disbelief, still not getting it. "What are you talking about? How about it's the biggest fucking turn-on in the world." He pistons his hips once and Ginny gasps as she feels him underneath her, even through his boxers, he's right there, brushing against her.  
  
She shakes her head at him, finding his confusion adorable. "Yeah, but you're a ballplayer too." Mike still doesn't seem to find that a good enough explanation, so she just shrugs. "I don't know. Guys are dumb."  
  
He chuckles, dropping another kiss on her mouth. "Yeah, they are. That's why you needed a man, babe." He winks at her, grinning when she rolls her eyes and slaps at his shoulder. But she doesn't deny it so he holds her closer, voice lowering to make a confession. "Well, it's too fucking late for them now. I don't care about anything except staying your lucky number seven for a long, long time."  
  
Ginny beams at him and he smiles back, feeling like a lovesick idiot but knowing he'd say anything to ease her worries, to get rid of the tension that's lingering in her spine. She goes pliant against him, turns to putty in his arms, so he thinks he's succeeded at his mission.  
  
She leans in and kisses him again, mouth brushing against his own, back and forth so softly but so seductively that he feels himself start to harden again.  
  
"Yeah? Well, I don't care about anything except staying your number two hundred and eighty-four for a long, long time."  
  
Mike makes a face at the number, slapping her ass playfully in retaliation, his hands moving swiftly under her shirt to tickle her ribs in punishment. She's so sensitive there that she immediately shrieks at his touch, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance and turning into a heap of laughter.  
  
"Stop it, stop!"  
  
"I wasn't that bad, okay? Nowhere near there." He furrows his brow for a second, really hoping he _hadn't_ been that bad. It was a long time ago, feels like forever ago when he thinks about his life in terms of pre- and post-Ginny Baker’s arrival. “That sounds way too high.”

“Are you sure, Lawson? Because that was just a ballpark figure.” Despite it all, he can’t help but scoff at her baseball idiom because she just looks way too pleased with herself for sliding it in. The grin on her face is wide, eyes twinkling with mirth as she visibly enjoys his discomfort at the topic. “Because eighteen years playing pro, well, minus six years from when you were engaged and married… that’s still twelve years to account for, plus probably high school… I bet the cheerleaders were all over you.”

“I plead the fifth,” he declares immediately.

She snorts in amusement, accepting his silence as confirmation of her suspicions. “Should we do the math?”

“No,” he answers a little too quickly. “Don’t do any math.” He fights back a wave of panic himself, because okay, that math does not sound good at all, and even he grimaces. "It sounds disgusting when you put it like that.”

"Aw, poor little manwhore," she giggles, leaning in to cradle his head in her hands, scratching at his beard in amusement. "So sensitive about his depraved past."  
  
"Shut up," he mutters, marveling over how this is the same girl whose brains he’d fucked out half an hour ago, and here they are bantering back and forth like an old married couple. This girl, he swears, she's _the one._ She's everything.

“Your math is definitely wrong, okay? The past two years, since I met you,” he admits, looking up at her, “weren’t like that at all. Why do you think I can’t wait to get you alone any chance I get?”

Ginny drops a kiss on his forehead, a blush creeping up her cheeks at his revelation. “That’s so cute. Aren’t you a gentleman.” He rolls his eyes at her, so she continues, “I’m so glad we had this conversation because I really needed something new to tease you about. This’ll easily last me the next ten years.” He just glares, opening his mouth to retort something back, but she laughs, dropping a kiss on his lips, silently letting him know she’ll drop the topic for now.

"Okay, _reformed_ manwhore, how about this? You can stay number seven until I decide to let Drake take the number eight spot." Her dimples flash as she taunts him.  
  
Mike raises his eyebrows at that, not liking the sentiment one bit. He grabs her around the waist and expertly flips them over, a flailing movement of arms and legs tangled together in a balancing act on the couch. She yelps at the maneuver, squirming underneath him and he holds her down, nuzzling his beard on her chest, kissing at the hollow of her cleavage.  
  
"Drake," he scoffs. "Is he still sniffing around? Aren't guys supposed to understand no means no in this day and age?"  
  
"He sent me champagne after we won," she informs him, grinning brightly at the memory, and at how Mike’s scowling down at her. "And a box of chocolates. The expensive kind."  
  
"Of course he did," Mike mutters.  
  
"They were yummy." She sighs in delight, thinking of the dark chocolate truffles she, Amelia and Evelyn had inhaled on sight. "Asked me out too," she declares, winking at him. "Some fancy new place downtown, VIP room. Was gonna send a limo."  
  
"That’s overcompensating right there." His fingers trace the hollow of her collarbone, gaze intent there as he hesitantly asks, "So, did you go?"  
  
"Amelia wanted me to," she says, smiling when he rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath. "Evelyn even bought me sexy new underwear."  
  
"You’re killing me here, Baker," he groans, hiding his face in the hollow of her neck. This time he’s the one who can't bear to meet her gaze, feeling vulnerable and a little shy, just a little insecure as he asks what he wants to know. His lips brush against her skin, tasting the slightest sheen of sweat from their earlier workout. "Just tell me."  
  
She tugs at the hair at the back of his neck, waits until he lifts his head to look into her eyes. She smiles at him, running a hand over his face, the tilt of his eyes, the apple of his cheeks, that scruffy beard that she's maybe, just _maybe_ , beginning to love though she'll never admit it to him. Some secrets shouldn’t be shared, not when it comes to Mike Lawson’s ego.

“Ginny,” he pleads.

"No," she confides, barely holding back a smile at how his shoulders immediately relax. "It's only been you, Mike. You know that."  
  
The cocky smirk is back, and sure enough, he ruts his hips against hers, hands cupping her breasts, dropping a trail of sloppy kisses up her neckline to her ear.  
  
"Only been me ever since you were what, fifteen, and had my poster up-"  
  
She knows he's teasing but she still has to play her part, so she shoves at his shoulder, making a move to sit up and get off the couch. "Okay, that's it. I'm leaving."  
  
"No, no," he says with a laugh, pushing her back against the couch, kissing her in apology. "I'll stop, okay?" But he grins so wide, his teeth clacking against hers even as he kisses her, chuckles escaping his big frame. He looks so damn _happy_ , she can’t help but smile back. “I’m stopping.”

"Yeah, you better," she orders, shaking her head at him. "Don't know why I put up with you."  
  
"Probably because I feed you," he answers. This time he holds out his hand, waits until she takes it and sits up next to him, smiling fondly down at her as he watches her swimming in his t-shirt. "Want a sandwich? There's some lasagna from yesterday too."  
  
"Yes, please," she says, standing up and taking a step towards the kitchen, looking back when she doesn't hear the sound of him following. He's still sitting on the couch in his boxers, hair tousled, red patches across his chest from where she'd been kissing and touching him. "What?"  
  
"You should probably put your underwear on if you don't want me to get distracted by that glorious ass again." He nods at her, eyes lingering at the hem of the shirt that's flirting indecently high on her thighs.  
  
She teases him, arching her back, standing on her tiptoes, and he groans at the flash of curves he saw.  
  
"Baker."  
  
"I'll think about it," she winks, enjoying his reaction way too much to stop now. "Come on, follow me, Lawson. Enjoy the view."  
  
He follows her to the kitchen, and enjoy the view he does. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Ginny’s imaginary number for Mike was gonna be 100something but then I got curious and did the math and o m g it turned out to be a lot higher, like 300something, that’s with a minimum of 2 or 3 different women a month. :O YEAH. So I had to have Ginny tease him about it. I had another version where she actually did the math more step-by-step but it felt a little distracting from the flow of banter so I went with this version. Share your thoughts pls, I would love to hear your headcanons on pre-Ginny manwhore Mike Lawson. :D (And I know the show never explicitly said how long he and Rachel were married but considering the depth of his feelings and his attachment issues, I feel like it would be more than just a quick marriage, so I have it as 5 years + 1 year engaged. Again, share your thoughts!)


End file.
